Ishi finds Gengras continuing to take cues from the latter comparison point: its three tracks flow into each other subtly enough to qualify as passages rather than discrete songs, building and releasing with a patient determination. The music moves unhurriedly from moment to moment in a way that traces the clear outline a strong compositional foundation, producing an atmosphere that's both serene and substantial.

It’s tempting to call Ishi ambient music, but it possesses too much presence to fade into the background. It possesses an insistence that just stops short of dominating your attention. Although Gengras’ current mode relies heavily on slow-attack synth pads, he frequently works in dissonant leads and unexpectedly harsh tones that can disrupt the peaceful mood you might find yourself lulled into. It’s a soothing record, but one that’ll still keep you on your toes.

Combined with the rich synthesizer sounds that Gengras comes up with, that serene quality means Ishi is a good record to keep handy (along with a pair of good headphones). It's a sonically dense record, with deep, sustained low end and deft arrangements that are complicated but not cluttered. The bass lines move at whale-song pace throughout, above which bits of melody—flickering clusters of sequenced notes, sounds that resemble synthesized wind—fade in and out hypnogogically.

Ishi is remarkably well designed to block out the world around you. The serene energy it gives off it makes for an effective psychic refuge—put it on in a train station during rush hour and it immediately begins to block out the atmospheric anxiety hovering over the crowd, like an umbrella against the rain. The headspace it produces is calming but frequently, dreamily surreal, and it often seems like a better place to live than the world outside it.